


as you're pretty, so be wise; wolves may lurk in every guise

by jyushimatsu-falls-in-love (NatureTheZafara)



Category: The Path (Video Game), おそ松さん | Osomatsu-san (Anime)
Genre: (sort of), Alternate Universe - The Path (Video Game) Fusion, Character Study, Crossover, Dark, Horror, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Kinda pretentious ngl, Other, Possible Character Death, Red Riding Hood Elements, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-06
Updated: 2019-06-06
Packaged: 2020-04-11 17:32:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19114435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NatureTheZafara/pseuds/jyushimatsu-falls-in-love
Summary: There are lots of things to find deep within the woods. One by one, six identical brothers stray from the path to Grandmother's house and into the forest, where they find things that probably shouldn't be there. And people they probably shouldn't have met.Maybe they should have stayed on the path, after all.(Crossover between Osomatsu-san andThe Pathby Tale of Tales.MAJOR SPOILERSforThe Pathahead.)





	as you're pretty, so be wise; wolves may lurk in every guise

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was written for an Ososan crossover zine that seems to have fallen through, unfortunately :/ But that's okay-ish because it at least gave me an excuse to write a crossover that I've always wanted to do!!
> 
> [ _The Path_](http://www.tale-of-tales.com/ThePath/) is a short indie horror "art game" developed by Tale of Tales, released in 2009. Inspired by various versions of Little Red Riding Hood, the game has you play as six sisters (!!!) who are sent one by one to their grandmother's house in the middle of the woods. You can _stay_ on the path as instructed, of course; but you can _stray_ from the path too...
> 
> This fic was done in collaboration with [LuvTheseStuff](https://twitter.com/AngelCokeLife), who drew this really amazing illustration to accompany the fic!! You can see it on her Twitter [here!!](https://twitter.com/AngelCokeLife/status/1136632082048770049) She's really good, isn't she? ;v; Luv, [Irk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/IrkTheWaffle/pseuds/IrkTheWaffle) and my sibling also looked over my fic, essentially beta-ing it, so thanks to all of them! 
> 
> Also, again: there are MAJOR spoilers for _The Path_ all over the place in this fic. Be warned.
> 
> The title is taken from the poem being recited in the game's [launch trailer](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Htdc0xUOvzw). It's also found in the movie _The Company of Wolves_ , apparently (which I never watched). Supposedly it came from the moral at the end of Charles Perrault's version of Little Red Riding Hood, but I can't seem to verify it.

**vi.**

In the forest, Todomatsu finds a graveyard.

The weathered headstones scattered around the barren ground send a chill down his back. He pulls his red hooded shawl closer to him, as if the worn old cloth will protect him from whatever nastiness this place entails.

He really should leave, turn around and find his way back to the path. He should never have left the path in the first place – should’ve gone straight to Grandmother’s house, as he was told. Besides, someone like him doesn’t belong here. Graveyards are dark, dreary, not at all cute,  _dead._ He is bright, young, the cutest,  _not dead._

Yet, something within him brought him into the forest to find this place. Behind the sweet pink image he presents to everyone, there’s a part of him that’s sly, empty, almost heartless. That part of him isn’t afraid of the darkness of the graveyard, even when the rest of him is – not when it perfectly matches his own.

His brothers sometimes call him a dry monster. Suppose they’re right.

A deep, cackling howl catches Todomatsu’s attention. There’s a huge, hulking beast meandering around the graveyard. He’s a wolf – no, a  _werewolf,_ with sharp, jagged teeth and flaming red eyes. His dark fur acts more like flickering flames than fur, too.

The werewolf’s eyes fall on Todomatsu, and his mouth twists into a wicked grin.

 _“Hey, bro!”_ he says with a guttural laugh,  _“Come hitch a ride! Sure, it’s kiddie shit, but it’ll be fun!”_

Todomatsu really should leave. He really should turn and run as far away from the graveyard as possible. He really should listen to the practical, scared side of him.

But the dark, dry hole in his heart recognizes a fellow monster.

Against all judgment, Todomatsu takes the werewolf’s offer, climbing on top of his back and clinging onto his flame-like fur as he runs around the headstones with reckless abandon.

 

(Todomatsu doesn’t see the empty grave lot with his name on it until it’s too late.) 

 

 

 

 

 

**v.**

In the forest, Jyushimatsu finds a lake.

It’s raining when he finds it. A thick, gray mist blankets the lake and colors the sky. Thunder rumbles in the distance. The air is damp and cold. He can’t see his reflection in the murky water.

Jyushimatsu wants to dip his hand into the water. He wants to jump in and see if he can freestyle from one end of the vast lake to the other. He wants to swim to the center and float on his back. Floating is the closest thing to flying; he’s always wanted to fly, but not on a plane. More like a bird, or a bug, or a cloud.

There’s a huge white cloud hovering over the center of the lake. Jyushimatsu gapes when he sees it. It’s a strange, awe-inspiring, beautiful sight – but something about it also feels heavy and sad.

There’s a wooden boat floating at the edge of the lake. Jyushimatsu’s smile brightens, and he zips towards it and hops inside. As soon as he’s seated, the boat moves and drifts away, towards the center, where the cloud is. He would’ve gladly swum the way himself, but the basket for Grandmother would get wet.

As he gets closer to the cloud, he makes out the form of a young woman, braided hair and skirt billowing over the water. She seems entirely made of mist, except for the little streams of red dripping from her wrists.

She looks sad.

Jyushimatsu stands and reaches a floppy sleeve towards the mist girl floating above him. She stares for a moment, and soon starts circling him slowly, surrounding him with white fog.

Then Jyushimatsu feels himself lift into the air, lighter than a feather.

He’s floating – no, he’s  _flying._

Jyushimatsu laughs. He circles the mist girl just as she’s circled him, twirling and looping and making silly faces. The mist girl’s lips curl into a wide open smile; he thinks he can hear her laughter in the thunder and rain. He laughs some more.

She isn’t alone anymore. Neither is he.

 

(Jyushimatsu doesn’t realize that he can still fall, and he can still drown.)

 

 

 

 

 

**iv.**

In the forest, Ichimatsu finds a playground.

He’s reminded of his and his brothers’ childhoods, but the memories don’t make him sentimental. If anything, the broken swings, rusted slide, and creaking merry-go-round just make him think of certain things he can never get back.

Out of boredom, he tries out some of the old playground equipment. The swings, the slide, and the seesaws are too small for his adult body. The abandoned watch tower smells like rotting wood. The merry-go-round groans when it moves, like a dying cat. It’s definitely not a fun, nor safe, place for children to play. Not anymore.

He can’t help but feel some sort of connection with this place. A playground that can’t be used by children and left to rot in the shadows of the trees, like the rusty garbage heap it is. He could be left out here to die too, and nobody would notice. Perfect for garbage like him.

He smiles darkly to himself, as dark as the surrounding trees.

The smell of burning tobacco alerts Ichimatsu to the presence of a woman with long black hair smoking on a nearby bench. She sits with such poise, yet with an air of cool nonchalance about her. She makes Ichimatsu a little uneasy.

The lady catches him staring.

“Hey. You alone?” She blows a puff of dark smoke into the air. “Don’t blame you. A place like this is good to be alone.”

Her words strike a pang of loneliness in Ichimatsu’s chest. Without thinking, he shuffles towards the bench and sits on the empty spot beside her, refusing to meet her gaze.

The lady doesn’t seem to mind. She even offers him one of her cigarettes.

“Looks like you need one,” she says coolly.

Ichimatsu feels unworthy. The loneliness gnawing in his chest prompts him to take the cigarette from her anyway. He puts it in his mouth, and the lady lights it without him asking. The smoke burns his nostrils, and he coughs.

 

(Ichimatsu later finds out just how much smoke can fill his lungs and suffocate him.)

 

 

 

 

 

**iii.**

In the forest, Choromatsu finds an outdoor theatre.

It has long been abandoned and left to decay, from the worn stone stage to the broken audience seats. This was the kind of place where live concerts once played, full of music and life; now there’s nothing left but dead air and silence. It bothers Choromatsu deeply.

He probably should find his way back to the path, but he can’t bring himself to leave. It’s been a while since he’s been to a theatre; all the job hunting he’s forced on himself recently takes up a lot of his time.

He approaches the stage to get a closer look, and that’s when he sees the old piano standing stage right. His fingers twitch, and he gulps. It’s feels like forever since he’s played.

Though he tells himself not to, he sits at the piano and plays a cover of some peppy idol tune. He stumbles over the keys a few times, and he cringes. Nonetheless, it feels good to touch the keys again.

Yet every note is a heavy weight on his heart. Once he dreamt of maybe turning his piano hobby into a full-blown career. But deep down, he knows that only those with extraordinary talent make the cut. Which he doesn’t have.

So he throws himself into work magazines and employment centers instead. It’s the smart, responsible, adult thing to do;  _he_ ought to a smart, responsible adult by now.

Sometimes he wishes he didn’t have to.

“Excuse me, nya?”

Choromatsu starts at the sweet voice addressing him. He turns around to see a cute lady with pink hair, her lips curled into a catlike smile. She has some music sheets in her hands.

“I heard you playing… You’re really good, nya!” She hands him her music sheets. “I’m a singer, you know – and I’d like to have some accompaniment. Is that okay, nya?”

A blush spreads across Choromatsu’s face, and he nods enthusiastically. He can’t say no to a pretty girl like her.

 

(Choromatsu can’t say no to the strings tightening their hold on him, much as he wants to.)

 

 

 

 

 

**ii.**

In the forest, Karamatsu finds a campsite.

Despite the blazing campfire and the surrounding tents, the grounds are deserted. It doesn’t look abandoned, however, so whoever set up here will probably come back. Hopefully soon; some company would be nice right now.

He sits down by the fire to warm himself. The flickering embers illuminating the dark forest make a lovely, romantic sight. If only he had someone to share it with; perhaps a beautiful Karamatsu Girl could come and sit with him, and they’d talk and drink and embrace tenderly by the fireside.

Others call him delusional, but there’s nothing wrong with daydreaming. It’s better to fill his head with pretty women swooning over him and his fashion and songs, rather than dwell on the pitiful virgin loneliness he’s been carrying for years, growing heavier and heavier the more time passes.

Even narcissists just want to be loved.

“Oi! Who are you, zans… Oh!”

Approaching the campsite is a tall, busty blonde beauty in a revealing plaid outfit, carrying a wood axe. Upon seeing Karamatsu, her initial suspicion quickly shifts to a friendly, inviting smile.

“Sorry about that! Are you lost? You must be tired, after walking these woods for so long! It’s okay, make yourself at home!”

Karamatsu doesn’t decline such a gracious offer.

Putting down her axe, the woman takes a couple of beers from a nearby stash and sits beside Karamatsu. She hands him a can.

“Here; it’ll warm you up.”

Karamatsu accepts, and gulps down his beer. A strong, fizzy warmth courses through his body; his eyes start to swim.

The lady smiles and leans in close. “You can have more, if you want,” she offers. “Stay a while. I could use the company.”

Karamatsu feels like the luckiest man alive.

 

(Karamatsu drowns in his intoxication, and forgets about the axe.)

 

 

 

 

 

**i.**

In the forest, Osomatsu finds a field of flowers.

Warm sunlight floods the flowery clearing and makes him feel lazy. He finds himself a spot beside a ratty old scarecrow and sits to rest his weary legs. He might take a short nap, too.

Taking in his surroundings, he’s hit by a wave of nostalgia. As a child, he would’ve loved to play in a place like this. He can imagine his and his brothers’ younger selves making crop circles, climbing the scarecrow’s limbs, playing hide-and-seek among the flowers and electric poles and barbed wire fences.

Those were the days. He can’t help but long for them.

Things are very different, now that he’s an adult. His brothers have changed, each having his own things to deal with. Someday, they won’t be by his side anymore. And no matter how hard he tries to ignore it, the looming inevitability of work and adult responsibility will eventually catch up with him.

If only there was a way to delay it.

Suddenly, a pair of hands covers Osomatsu’s eyes. A girlish, faintly familiar giggle rings in his ears.

“Guess who?”

Osomatsu carefully removes the hands from his eyes and turns around to see a girl in twintails and a headband, wearing a cutesy red dress. Something about her is very familiar, like a childhood memory come to life.

The girl giggles again. “What? Nothing to say? You must be speechless over my beauty… That’s just like you, Osomatsu-kun.”

Without warning, she suddenly pushes Osomatsu, then runs, her laughter ringing around the flower field.

“You’re it!”

Osomatsu doesn’t understand; yet the carefree familiarity of the girl pushes him to chase after her and play along. They play tag for what feels like hours. He can’t stop smiling.

 

(Osomatsu stops smiling at the barbed wires that trip and strangle him.)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**0.**

In the forest, the Matsuno in White finds Grandmother’s house.

It sits at the end of the path, made of wood, surrounded by trees and rain and darkness. The Matsuno in White open the front gate, walks up the wooden steps to the entrance door, which has been left open. He enters.

He passes by many rooms as he makes his way to Grandmother’s room. The rooms twist and turn and change, each one being a different sort of deathbed for six different sorts of people:

The graveyard room, with melted pink candles stuck to the biggest gravestone, their flames put out.

The drowning room, with murky yellow lake water flooding every inch of the floor.

The smoke room, with black engine exhaust blocking the faded purple wallpaper from view.

The music room, where the piano and the green drop curtain collect dust, never to be used.

The campfire room, which is littered with crushed blue beer cans and a tree cut down too early.

And the flower room, where bright red flowers grow along the barbed wire fences like weeds.

With each one he passes, he thinks of the brothers who strayed from the path – the ones who could’ve been here. The ones Grandmother was waiting for, but never came.

His heart grows six times heavy.

Finally, he reaches Grandmother’s room. The inside feels musty, heavy with dust and sickness and old age. He steps inside, and is greeted with the sight of a stuffed wolf standing to one side of the room, and a wilted pine bonsai on the other.

In the middle of the room, unmoving in her old wooden bed, is Grandmother.

The Matsuno in White approaches her, slowly and carefully. He hovers over her, putting a gentle hand on her frail, wrinkled ones.

“Grandmother.”

The old woman weakly opens her eyes. She stares up at the Matsuno in White, her mouth growing ajar as if to say something. She doesn’t.

The Matsuno in White lowers his golden eyes, and shakes his head.

“They’re not coming.”

He sinks to the floor and places both his hands on hers, bowing his head as if in prayer for repentance.

“I’m so sorry…”

Grandmother never speaks. Grandmother never moves. Time stands still in her room, in her house, in the forest. The air inside stays heavy and dead; the rain outside continues to pour over nothing.

The Matsuno in White says nothing more.

 

(The Matsuno in White later leaves the house, stained in red.)

 

**Author's Note:**

> Totty → Robin  
> Jyushi → Rose  
> Ichi → Ruby  
> Choro → Scarlet  
> Kara → Carmen  
> Oso → Ginger
> 
> Akumatsu → Werewolf (Robin's Wolf)  
> Homura → Cloud Wolf (Rose's Wolf)  
> Ichiko → Charming Wolf (Ruby's Wolf)  
> Nyaachan → Fey Wolf (Scarlet's Wolf)  
> Iyayo → Woodsman Wolf (Carmen's Wolf)  
> Totoko → Girl in Red (Ginger's Wolf)
> 
> Kamimatsu → Girl in White  
> ?????? → Grandmother
> 
>  
> 
> Please do tell me what you think ^^


End file.
